Fareeha and yourself met in a more, unusual way than most. One night, in your apartment in Gotham City, you'd be sitting down, enjoying yourself before going to bed, when suddenly, you'd hear your window open. Upon future inspection, all you were met with was a blade to your throat, and an assassin holding her bleeding shoulder. You weren't a doctor, but she needed help, so she forced you to operate, giving you orders, "use the tweezers here" or "disinfect now", that's how it always was and now, whenever she needs help, she comes to you... but something neither of you expected after knowing one another... she now knows, after one foolish night... .

... That whenever she needs comfort, or love... she'll come to you.

...

Fareeha slipped inside your apartment, like a bird into its nest, quick, agile, and rehearsed. No a sound was made to alert anyone. Her mask still covered her nose and lower, her naturally tanned skin that was littered in tattoo's was covered by the moons glow coming through the window she had just entered, her chestnut brown hair in a ponytail. She looked back through the window, being sure that she wasn't followed before closing the window.

The 32 year old has never lost her agility or flexibility to aging, her experience only makes her more deadly in reality, but it also opened her eyes, to what really matters, at least to her. Her beloved.

Fareeha moved quickly, as if it were a tiny little prance, not making a sound on the floor so the neighbours below wouldn't hear her footsteps, she was on the prowl for you, her brown eyes scanning all over the dark apartment. Everything in this apartment would say that the owner is rather absent or asleep, no lights, everything is put away, not a sound being made across the whole apartment. But she knew better, she knew something was up... it was just a matter of time 'til she knew.

Her hand mad hit to the bedroom door handle, her katana's holt in her hand. Slowly pushing it forward to peer in.